


speaking isn't easy

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Detectives, F/M, Romance, Slow Burn, Speakeasies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25709617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: Marinette's a criminal. Adrien's a detective. Chloé wears a wig and threatens people behind the scenes. All Luka wants is some peace and quiet instead of hearing Marinette lament about her new lover everyday at work. AU.(mari sees a man who could ruin her and has a oh no, he's hot moment.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Comments: 13
Kudos: 203





	speaking isn't easy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finnet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnet/gifts).



> i promise this isn't a joke story like the other english title i have. after so long, i wanted to branch out and try and keep them english from now. _finnet_ , i hope you enjoy this! while this is set in the 1920s, i avoided focusing on that too much. this story is light-hearted, doesn't take itself seriously at all, and i had a lot of fun writing it. chloé's role is one of my favourites so far for her even though she barely has any screentime.

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

“Miss, your hat!”

Marinette touched her head, surprised that it was gone.

“I believe this is yours,” the man said, holding out her hat with a smile. “You should be more careful. I managed to catch it before it fell in a puddle.”

“Thank you.” She smoothed out her hair before putting it back on. “You have quick reflexes.”

He laughed. “When it comes to pretty girls, sure.”

She raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “Well, I should be going—”

“I apologise,” he said, adjusting his suit jacket. “That was inappropriate of me, wasn't it?”

“Terribly,” Marinette agreed, taking a step away. “Thank you for your good deed, but I must leave.”

And before he could get another word in, Marinette fled down the street, walking fast enough for her heels to click loudly with every step.

Chloé was sitting behind the desk when she entered.

Marinette wheezed, placing a hand over her chest as she tried to regain her breath.

“You are horribly out of shape,” Chloé told her, not getting up from her seat. “Your face is red.”

“I was running for my life,” she defended, not flipping the sign on the door to say open yet. “You owe me a bonus for my troubles.”

There was no accusation of her being greedy. Instead, Chloé brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and asked, “Why am I compensating you this time?”

“A detective just flirted with me,” she blurted, wildly gesturing to the door. “Down the _street_! He was that close!”

Chloé made an unimpressed noise. “And? What did he say?”

“He picked up my hat.”

“Learn to take better care of your belongings, then,” Chloé chastised her. “Are you sure it was a detective?”

“It was the one with the, you know,” Marinette started, pressing a finger to her cheek. “Blond with dimples? I can't remember the name, but he was on the list of sketches you gave me to look out for.”

With grace, Chloé stood out and smoothed out her dress. “And he flirted with you?”

Marinette put her coat and hat on the coat stand behind the desk, bumping into Chloé along the way. All Chloé did was put a hand on her to stop her from stumbling, a feat that was granted to Marinette alone.

She threw her bag under the desk as she exclaimed, “ _Yes_!”

“Well, that's fine,” Chloé dismissed. “You're pretty. It's to be expected.”

“I'm a criminal,” she deadpanned.

“A pretty one,” Chloé reaffirmed. Then, her smile grew as she stated, “Of course, you pale in comparison when compared to me.”

Marinette huffed. “If you're here to gloat, you can leave.”

“I dropped off some new supplies already,” Chloé told her, collecting her coat and draping it over her arm. “I have business to attend to, so I won't be around for a while.”

“Okay, be safe,” she replied, beginning to organise her desk. “Make sure to get someone to send me a letter if you die, all right? I'll be out of here as soon as I get it.”

Chloé laughed. “Running away to the countryside?”

She smiled. “That's always been the plan.”

“There's police over there, too,” was Chloé's blunt response. “You'll be caught within a week since you're so idiotic.”

“Two weeks,” Marinette insisted. “I've learned from my past mistakes.”

Chloé snorted. “I doubt that.”

“Aren't you supposed to be leaving?” she demanded, pointing to the door. “Begone! Customers aren't going to come in if you're here.”

“They're too busy gawking at me through the window,” Chloé proclaimed with a wistful sigh. “What a pitiful and boring life. Try not to wither away before I see you again.”

“ _Begone_!”

The days passed with nothing strange happening while Chloé was gone. Marinette managed the book-store with a polite smile, greeting the regular faces with less-than-professional words and actions, and gossiped with Luka when it was empty.

When she'd been offered the position with him, she'd been overjoyed from the amount of working hours compared to the lavish pay.

Being close to Chloé came with perks that she couldn't deny.

The money from working for her wasn't the least of it; Marinette could arrange to have a driver if she wished to, though she rarely frequented any other towns, instead choosing to wander the streets at her own will.

She wasn't used to being treated so well.

When she had her arms full of heavy books that she'd managed to acquire, she'd been ready to carefully place them on a dry patch on the floor before opening the door to the book-store.

Instead, a man's voice called out, “Let me get that for you, miss.”

And as soon as she'd turned to thank him for the kind offer, it felt like she'd been punched in the stomach.

She sounded breathless as she said, “It's you.”

“Oh,” the detective said, smile widening. “We meet again. I'd say this is fate, wouldn't you?”

Her heart wasn't beating fast because he was pretty.

The detective held the door open for her, allowing her inside to clumsily place the books down on the desk. Luka peered out from behind a bookcase, clearly about to help her, but a quick shake of her head had him hiding again.

“Thank you,” Marinette said, smile forced as she turned around to face him.

He'd followed her in and shut the door.

“I'd like to apologise for last time, again,” he announced, making sure there was a good amount of distance between them. “I didn't mean to... come on so strong. I've been told that I need to think before I speak.”

“It is fine,” Marinette told him. “Do you work in the area? You're a new face.”

“Somewhat,” he answered. “My name's Adrien.”

“Marinette,” she replied, wetting her lips. “I'm the manager of this store. If you're ever after a particular book, feel free to talk to me.”

“Manager?” Adrien questioned, not hiding the surprise in his voice.

She shifted her feet. “Yes.”

He opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it, pursing his lips.

Marinette thought it was too hot in the room despite it being spring.

“I should go,” Adrien said, reaching up and adjusting his hat. “It was lovely to see you again, Marinette. I hope we'll bump into each other in the future.”

“You, too,” she replied, smiling tightly. “Have a good day.”

He didn't slam the door when he left.

She breathed out loudly.

Luka came out from behind the bookcases, questioning, “Who was that?”

“An executioner,” she dramatically replied, collapsing against the desk, putting her cheek on the cool wood. “I saw my life flashing before my eyes again.”

“That's nice,” he said, stepping closer and taking her hat off. “Am I allowed to have my lunch break now? I feel like I'm going to faint from hunger.”

She pouted. “Aren't you supposed to care about my feelings?”

“After my break,” Luka stated, smiling. “I need to recharge my emotions first.”

“Fine, go,” she agreed, standing up and looking down at her crumpled clothes. “I'll stay here and wallow.”

Luka laughed. “Okay, boss.”

“Luka, wait,” she called out when he got to the door. “If you see that man again, don't be suspicious. Avoid catching his attention, if you can.”

He saluted. “Understood.”

-x-

Adrien kept popping up.

Marinette choked on her breath and doubled-over, coughing loudly until her face was red when they ran into each other at a café. She'd been there to pick up a cake to take home, a treat for the weekend after the stress of work, yet she was greeted by Adrien smiling at her as he waited to be served at the counter.

Then, he was at the market, picking out local produce.

She drew the line at seeing him in a restaurant, happily chatting with someone only a few tables away.

Shutting the book-store door with more force than necessary, Marinette called out, “It's a _disaster_.”

Luka was at the desk, jacket over the back of the chair and his sleeves rolled up. “What's the problem, boss?”

“I'm being followed,” she proclaimed, throwing her coat at the coat stand and missing horribly.

Luka picked it up and put it on a hook without batting an eyelash. From the lack of change in his expression, it was as though the situation was normal.

Marinette didn't think she was _that_ dramatic.

“An admirer?” he questioned, running his hand over his slicked-back hair and causing a few strands to fall out of place. “It's been a while since the last one.”

“No,” she denied, loudly putting her hands down on the desk. “He's after something other than my looks.”

Luka blinked. “Which is?”

Marinette solemnly told him, “My life.”

“Marriage is a big step,” he mused. “A date should be in order first.”

“The _detective_!” she exclaimed through her laughter. “He's turning up everywhere! Anywhere I go, I turn my head and he's _there—_ I can't live like this, Luka. I'm becoming paranoid.”

He snorted. “You've been paranoid for years.”

“I'm serious!” Marinette insisted, feeling red in the face. “He's—if he's lurking around here, he must know something. I'm not going to be fooled by this nice guy act.”

“We're good at what we do,” he pointed out. “The detective isn't going to find any evidence.”

“The fact that he's here is bad enough,” she stressed, gesturing wildly around the store. “They've never been this close before!”

He shrugged. “It was bound to happen.”

“Why are you not scared?” she demanded. “You're as bad as me.”

“Your name is put down first as manager,” Luka innocently told her. “I'm simply an employee trying to earn money. I turn a blind eye to your criminal activity in exchange for bonuses—”

“That's what I do!” she interrupted, outraged. “You can't steal my backstory!”

Luka smiled brightly. “We share it, like everything else.”

“I hate you.”

“Why, that's abuse,” he remarked, putting a hand over his heart. “That's adding to your list of offences against me. I'm sure the police would _love_ to hear all about your mistreatment.”

She pulled on his brace and let it snap back against his chest loudly.

To her horror, Adrien appeared in the same apartment building.

Marinette had walked up the stairs to her floor, opening the door and stepping into the hallway before she caught sight of the detective knocking on her front door.

She cleared her throat. “Can I help you?”

Startled, he jumped back, turning to look at her as he stuttered out, “M-Marinette?”

“Adrien,” she acknowledged, twirling her key around her index finger. “Our tastes must be similar from how often I'm seeing you lately.”

“What are you doing here?” he questioned, voice a bit high-pitched.

“I live here,” she answered, putting her key in the lock. “Did you need something?”

“I—no,” he awkwardly replied, reaching up and adjusting his hat. “I wanted to greet my new neighbour. I never thought it would be you.”

It was clear that he was being honest about that, for once.

Marinette was still suspicious, though.

She tilted her head. “No one's moved out recently.”

“I'm staying with a friend,” Adrien explained without hesitation. “I thought introducing myself would make everyone less... wary of me.”

“Wary?” Marinette asked, bemused by his word choice. “Do I have a reason to be? You seem friendly.”

“I—well.” He was struggling to find the right words. “I wanted to make a good impression.”

“Well, you messed that up the first time,” she joked.

When she realised his reaction, she almost laughed aloud.

His ears turned red.

“I'm so sorry,” he rushed out, talking quickly. “I was just—I was caught off-guard by how pretty you are. I didn't think it through.”

Marinette touched her cheek with a smile. “I am quite pretty, aren't I?”

Adrien's expression was bewildered.

“It was nice to meet you again,” she told him, opening her door and taking a step inside. “Try and keep the noise down with your... friend, will you? I'm a light sleeper.”

And with that, she entered her home, breathing out a sigh of relief that she didn't have to manage her expression any longer.

It was a bad sign that he was living in her building.

Chloé wasn't back yet.

While Marinette was acquainted with Chloé's family, she'd cut ties with them when she'd turned of legal age, wanting to live freely by herself.

Luka was in the same position as her.

And so, Marinette waited.

The days passed and Marinette saw the detective everywhere; purchasing coffee in the morning, buying a newspaper on the streets, and popping his head into her store and questioning whether she had a specific book on hand.

She'd instructed Luka to hide any time Adrien walked past their window.

“I don't understand,” Luka protested, crossing his arms. “I'm older than you. If anyone's equipped for this, I am.”

She clenched a fist. “I can knock you out.”

“This guy already thinks you're a knock out,” he retorted. “I think you're reading this wrong.”

“This is why you're the one hiding,” Marinette muttered. “I'm smarter than you.”

“Marinette,” he said slowly, closing the distance between them to put his hands on her shoulders. The height difference between them made it seem almost comical when she came up to his shoulders. “He's wasting his days away without a plan. Maybe he's _not_ on an assignment.”

“He's everywhere,” she insisted.

Luka pointed out, “He lives in the area now.”

“He's been here weeks before knocking on my door!”

“I think you might be misunderstanding,” Luka said, squeezing her shoulders to try and get his point across. “Chloé didn't show us those sketches to make you paranoid.”

She narrowed her eyes. “What did he give you?”

Luka laughed, a forced sound that wasn't natural in the slightest. “I don't know what you mean.”

“You'd normally tell me not to waste my time with guys,” she replied, suspicious. “The only thing you care about more than me is money.”

“That's not true in the slightest—”

“You've spoken to him, haven't you?” she demanded, jabbing a finger to his chest. “I should've _known_ it was fishy as soon as you tried to defend him. What the fuck?”

“Okay, okay,” Luka gave in, holding his hands up in a sign of defeat. “He gave me a massive tip.”

“... _Disgusting_.”

Luka choked on his laughter. “You weren't here, okay? And he handed it to me without asking for anything in return. Why wouldn't I accept it?”

She wanted to stomp her foot childishly. “I told you not to talk to him!”

“Technically,” he started, reaching up to scratch his head. “I didn't talk. I shook my head or nodded. It was quite a civil conversation.”

She stomped on his foot instead.

Luka cried out, lifting his pained foot up and touching his shoe with his hand. “That was uncalled for!”

Marinette cleared her throat before proposing, “I will double whatever he gave you to ignore him completely next time he turns up.”

There was no complaints to that.

-x-

The neighbour Adrien was staying with was one Marinette had never tried to get along with.

Then again, she didn't do that with any of them.

She kept to herself for the most part, most of her intimate conversations with those connected to her work or Chloé. Luka was the closest thing to family she had and he was as socially awkward as she was.

Somehow, out of the three of them, Chloé had grown up to be the best with dealing with people.

That was still hard to come to terms with.

So, when there was a knock at her front door, she'd opened it without looking. “Hang on, I need to dry my hair still.”

And with that, she turned around and lifted up the towel around her shoulders, patting down her short hair and trying to stop any more droplets of water from falling onto her nightgown.

She didn't hear the door close.

“I-I came to see if you wanted to come over for dinner?”

It wasn't Chloé or Luka.

She whipped her head around, startled.

Adrien was standing red-faced in her doorway.

Marinette might've shrieked before slamming the door shut on him.

She could still hear him ask, “Is that a no?”

She'd become too comfortable, that was it. That was the only explanation she had to explain why she'd let her guard down around a man that could ruin her—to destroy everything that she'd worked for for petty crimes that weren't _that_ bad in the grand scheme of things.

When she looked in the mirror, her face was red from embarrassment.

Marinette slapped her cheeks.

She put on a dress that ended above her ankles, slipping on her favourite shoes before dabbing a small bit of lipstick on. It was all she could do in a short amount of time.

Her hair was still slightly wet.

Taking the tarts she'd bought earlier out of the fridge, Marinette left her apartment with determination.

It didn't waver when she knocked on the door.

When it opened, it wasn't Adrien that greeted her.

She couldn't remember his name.

And it seemed that she wasn't the only one in that predicament. “Oh, you're...”

“Marinette,” she introduced, smiling polite. “Is that invitation for dinner still open? The dessert I bought earlier would be perfect to share.”

The man looked bewildered. “Dinner?”

She tilted her head. “Yes?”

“I have no idea what's going on,” he stated, running a hand through his hair. “You're my neighbour, aren't you? We've never spoken before.”

She pointed out, “I think we said hello once.”

“Astounding,” he muttered.

Her smile grew tight. “Your name?”

“You don't even know it and think I'm going to invite you to dinner?” he questioned with a laugh. “It's Nino.”

That was a name that she could recognise.

“Oh,” she murmured, smile growing more genuine. “Yes, I've heard about you from Claude before.”

Nino stiffened. “What?”

“We could chat more over dinner,” she started, sighing dramatically. “However, that doesn't seem to be what you want... I'd hate to intrude.”

“Claude?” he enquired, voice dropping to a hushed whisper as he leaned forward to close the distance between them. “He—he's mentioned me?”

“Of course,” Marinette replied, tucking some stray hairs that had dried behind her ear. “It would be unwise to not intimately know your neighbours.”

Nino swallowed. “He's—”

“Nino?” Adrien called out, footsteps filling the room as he wandered into view. Then, when he saw her with Nino standing so close, he exclaimed. “M-Marinette! I didn't—I thought you didn't want to come.”

Adrien looked flustered.

She decided to answer with, “I wasn't exactly dressed for company.”

He cleared his throat, gaze directed anywhere but at her.

It was Nino that took a step to the side and said, “Come in.”

The whole evening was awkward.

For one, neither Adrien or Nino were good at cooking. There had been no meal planned in the first place, so the improvised dish for the three of them was small from lack of experience of knowing what portions to cook for multiple people.

It did confirm one thing, however.

Luka might've been right about Adrien being somewhat misunderstood.

He committed the worst blunder he could've done in present company by admitted sheepishly, “I'm a detective. I stacked up my vacation days to visit some friends here.”

“No wonder you're always so free,” she remarked. “Nino's not the first you're staying with?”

“My other friend was closer,” Adrien replied without hesitation. “And I didn't want to impose on him too much.”

Nino muttered, “But not me?”

Adrien laughed loudly.

There was also the fact that he was so _friendly_.

It truly seemed like him and Nino were friends. And from how Nino absolutely refused to bring up the subject of Claude, she had to assume that Adrien had no idea what his friend did in his free time.

The longer she spent in his presence, the less scared she was.

By the end of the evening, as they split the tarts with tea in chipped mugs, she thought that it was possible that she'd overreacted all along.

Nino slipped his coat on, stating that he had an appointment to attend to.

“He's visiting his lover,” Adrien clarified in a whisper when his friend disappeared through the door. “He's too embarrassed by my presence to invite her here.”

Whether it was because her stomach was full and satisfied or his continued presence had managed to put her at ease, Marinette didn't panic from being alone with him. “Have you known him long?”

“All my life,” he said, smile showing the dimples on his cheeks. “I'd say we're practically brothers, but he'd punch me.”

She laughed. “That's a cruel rejection.”

“It's because I'm older than him,” Adrien responded with a wink. “He can't stand the thought of me being the older brother.”

It came out sounding like a question. “That's... petty?”

“Are you an only child?”

“I have a family,” Marinette said, holding her chipped mug with two hands. The contents had since cooled down. “A brother, sister, and sometimes another brother.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Only sometimes?”

“It depends if he's nice to me or not,” she replied, grinning. “Nino's a friend of his.”

“Oh.” There was a moment where Adrien opened his mouth to say something, only to close it and look down at the empty plate in front of him. “Nino—it seemed like he didn't know of you when I... mentioned you before.”

She'd never been able to put a name to the face before. “I tend to be known as the little sister.”

“And what a cute title that is,” Adrien said, nothing about his open and friendly expression forced. “You're the baby?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, not embarrassed in the slightest. “They tend to be overprotective because of that. You know one of them.”

He blinked. “I do?”

“Luka, at the book-store,” she informed him with a smile. “He's been ignoring you now, right?”

Adrien never reacted like she expected him to.

For one, his face became flushed and he ran a hand through his hair, more strands falling out of place. “I—that's—” Adrien tried to stutter out, constantly cutting himself off, before he looked anywhere but at her. “I didn't know he's your brother.”

Amused, she questioned, “So, you didn't bribe him because he's my brother?”

He spluttered more, never finishing a sentence.

Her laughter turned more genuine.

“You don't—you don't look alike!” was the defence he chose in the end.

“That's because I'm pretty,” Marinette announced, batting her eyelashes.

He turned even redder.

Marinette's hair was completely dry by the time she returned home. Adrien had tried to offer to walk her to her door, which made her laugh and insist that she'd be fine when it was only two doors over.

When he kissed her hand and told her he had a nice evening, his face was so red that he looked ill.

“I did, too,” she replied, pleased that it wasn't a lie. “How about we have it at my place next time?”

His eyes lit up.

-x-

If Adrien was truly on a case, he was doing a terrible job.

He wasn't good at hiding his reactions.

The following day, Marinette had returned home in the evening with a cake that Luka had bought her to celebrate that she was still alive after spending time with Adrien. Although it hadn't been Luka's intention, she'd walked over to Nino's door and knocked.

Luckily, it was Adrien that answered.

“Do you like cake?” she questioned, blunt. “Also hi.”

“Hello.” He sounded a little amused. “Yes?”

“Yes?” she persisted. “That sounded like a question. I'm not sharing with you if you can't fully appreciate it.”

Slowly, Adrien asked, “You're... sharing cake with me?”

“If you like it,” she corrected. “I'm hoarding it all for myself if you're indifferent.”

He blurted, “I like cake.”

“Great.” Marinette smiled. “Are you free right now?”

And that was how he spent time in her apartment for the first time—when it was actually him that was being invited in, instead of her being careless and not expecting company.

Adrien was a very open person.

He'd told her about his profession without prompting before, was more than happy to explain how he was enjoying lazing around everyday instead of reporting to work, and that he had a few weeks left before he had to return.

It was more information that she would've been able to learn from other sources without paying handsomely.

“How come you've been given so much time off?” Marinette questioned, helping herself to another slice of cake. “Correct me if I'm wrong, but it's not normally that much, is it?”

“It's—” Adrien struggled to find the right answer before he sighed. “Not usually, no. It's a reward because I helped with a huge bust before.”

He was competent, then.

She swallowed her mouthful. “Good job.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, shyly averting his gaze.

The interest in her wasn't professional, she could tell that.

It turned into a good opportunity.

Chloé wasn't around to tell her it was a terrible idea.

Luka wasn't on the same wavelength of her, apparently.

“You're _what_?”

“What?” she countered, crossing her arms. “You told me that I might be misunderstanding. And I was!”

“That doesn't mean—” Luka threw his hands up in exasperation. “You're not supposed to flirt back with him!”

“He's not investigating me,” she pointed out. “And he's cute.”

Luka flatly replied, “You thought he was going to kill you last week.”

“He might in the future.” She shrugged. “And he's giving me juicy information right now. It's two birds with one stone, right?”

He questioned, “What's the other bird?”

Marinette put a hand over her heart. “My libido.”

Luka threw a book at her.

“You're paying for that!” she shouted.

“My suffering from listening to you is payment enough!”

He wasn't _that_ against it.

Luka told her while Adrien hadn't come into the store again, they'd exchanged friendly nods when they crossed each other on the street. When she demanded her money back from Luka not complying with her demand of ignoring him, he pointed out that that only counted for in the store.

So, she kicked him.

He leaned on her and pretended to weep.

It was a good relationship.

Their dynamic was one that had developed with age. At first, they'd been too shy to talk to each other, living in the same space with only exchanging glances during meals until they were addressed by someone older.

It was with time that they got close.

That extended to Chloé, too.

Her reappearance was dramatic.

Marinette opened up the door of the store—arriving earlier than Luka, who swapped with her at noon—covering her yawn with her hand.

She shouldn't have been so startled by Chloé sitting behind the desk, her legs up on the table with more skin on show than what was considered appropriate.

“You're back,” Marinette acknowledged, taking off her hat and patting her curls to check that they were still in place. “I almost thought you'd gotten killed.”

Chloé laughed. “You wish.”

Her heels made noise as she walked across the room to sit upon the desk, turning to face her. “Why are you lurking in the dark?”

“It was either here or go to the estate and be bothered,” Chloé replied, stretching before leaning back on the chair. “I'd rather take my chances with you stabbing me than have to wear a wig for longer.”

“Me?” Marinette laughed. “I'd never.”

“That's the right answer.” Chloé grinned. “I brought you back a present.”

“If you say it's you—”

Chloé sniffed. “Of course it is.”

“I don't want it.”

“You have no choice in the matter,” Chloé retorted, glaring at her. “I need a break! And Luka's not going to let me stay with him after last time.”

She exclaimed, “You had a knife to his throat!”

“Well, maybe he shouldn't have woken me up,” Chloé muttered.

“He was turning over!” Marinette defended through her laughter at the situation. “You—you know he's a restless sleeper! That's not a reason to threaten him.”

Chloé doubled down on saying, “I thought he was going to kill me.”

She snapped back, “Maybe you shouldn't have slept in his bed!”

The simple response she got to that was, “That's why I'm sharing yours.”

Marinette knew that there was no point arguing. When Chloé wanted something, she got it. There was no difference whether it was her actual family members, Marinette and Luka who had grown up knowing to give into her demands, or random people that she threatened.

“Fine,” she agreed, shoulders slumped. “But you should know something first—”

Chloé grumbled, “I already know you kick in your sleep.”

“That's not it!” Marinette exclaimed, jabbing her finger against Chloé's shoulder. “How about you actually _listen_ for once? I'm trying to tell you something important here.”

“If anyone else did that, I'd cut their finger off.”

She didn't hesitate to say, “Your threats don't scare me any more.”

“Good.” And with that, Chloé reached into her bag and got out her wallet, taking out a few notes and and sliding them to her. “Here's your reward.”

Marinette grabbed the money without feeling bad.

She'd become conditioned to accept it without question any more.

“The detective I saw before is still around,” she informed her, tucking the money into her own bag that was still hanging on her shoulder. “Adrien? He's staying with one of your new runners. The one that lives on my floor.”

Chloé stared at her.

“He's definitely into me,” she added on.

The first question was, “He's staying there?”

“Yeah,” Marinette confirmed, resting her palm on the desk and adjusting how she was sitting to be more comfortable. “Childhood friends or some nonsense. Adrien's on holiday for a couple of weeks before he has to go back. I assume he'll leave the city.”

“What are you doing.”

It wasn't a question.

She grinned. “I'm using my feminine wiles to help.”

Chloé raised her eyebrows.

“Okay, I figured it wouldn't be too bad to flirt back?” she admitted with a laugh. “And he's nice. I'm having fun.”

With disapproval clear in her voice, Chloé pointed out, “With a cop.”

“A cop on break,” she replied, drawing out the words and almost making it sound like she was singing. “It's a couple weeks of fun. I'm careful.”

“His friend is aware,” Chloé muttered, closing her eyes.

“Oh, I already handled that,” Marinette assured her. “I mentioned you and he clammed up. I doubt he'd be brave enough to tell Adrien anything.”

“He fucking better not,” Chloé said.

-x-

Nino was suddenly terrified of her.

Marinette had gone to his door, knocking with a pie wrapped up to share.

He'd opened and taken one look at her before paling, shutting it quickly.

Bewildered, Marinette knocked again.

It cracked ajar, chain back in place to keep it from opening completely. “I'm not supposed to talk to you.”

“Really,” she said flatly. “Why is that?”

“Claude—” Nino swallowed. “Claude told me not to.”

“Okay, then don't,” Marinette replied, wedging her foot so he couldn't close the door without hurting her. “I'm to see Adrien anyway. Stop being a third wheel and go see your lover.”

Nino stuttered out, “You're—you're here for him?”

“Yes?” she replied, amused. “Did you think I've been hanging out with you both for Claude?”

Nino forced out a laugh. “Maybe?”

“Well, I have been telling him everything,” she mused, tapping a finger to her chin. “But Adrien's cute. I want to spend more time with him.”

With hesitation, Nino asked, “I—you really like Adrien?”

“Did I not just say that?”

And his response to that was to kick her foot before shutting the door.

Marinette stared, torn between being amused or offended.

That was answered for her when the door opened again, fully that time. Nino was fidgeting, gesturing for her to come in.

She laughed. “I thought you wanted me to leave.”

“I'm not really in the position to tell you what to do, am I?” Nino replied, following that up with a nervous sigh. “I—if you really like Adrien, that's fine. I don't want him caught up in all of this.”

Marinette quipped, “I thought I wasn't going to get the brother talk from anyone.”

“I'm not talking to you,” Nino said, looking horribly nervous as he met her gaze. “Right? Please, I don't want to get into any more trouble with Claude.”

“It's fine.” She patted his shoulders on her way past, familiar with the layout of the apartment. “I'll tell him to back off. He's probably testing you to see who you're more loyal to.”

“That's—”

“Adrien's on a break, right?” Marinette beamed, placing the pie on the kitchen counter before going to the living room. “As long as it stays that way, it'll all be fine.”

Nino awkwardly shuffled after her, sitting a good distance away from her on the sofa. “You don't seem scared.”

“I've been in far worse situations,” she revealed.

He furrowed his brow. “Really?”

She leaned closer, cupping one side of her mouth as she whispered, “Want to know what's under my skirt?”

Nino looked scandalised.

Marinette snickered. “It's a knife.”

He yelped, “You have a _knife_?”

“What, you don't?” She laughed louder. “That's a rookie mistake.”

“I don't—I don't need it here,” Nino blurted, putting his hands on his knees and sitting stiffly. “Why would I?”

“You do know most people living here are criminals, right?” she asked, amused. “You all have to pass an interview to live here. Did you never wonder why the rent's so low?”

His eyes widened. “I'm letting Adrien live with _criminals_?”

“Nino,” Marinette said slowly, trying hold back her laughter. “You're a criminal.”

“You're right,” he whispered, horror clear in his expression. “I'm—I'm a criminal. And I have a detective living with me.”

She patted his arm. “I'm glad you've finally realised this.”

“He's—I'm going to jail,” Nino wheezed out, running his hands through his hair. “My own best friend is going to lock me up.”

“I mean, he might turn a blind eye for you,” she mused. “I'm sure he's more interested in your friendship than money. Besides, you barely earn anything right now, you can't bribe him.”

Nino turned to her and demanded, “Why aren't you freaking out?”

“I'm past that stage.” Marinette waved a hand dismissively. “I had my meltdown weeks ago. I've accepted he's oblivious right now.”

“ _Oblivious_?”

“I bat my eyes and he loses his trail of thought,” she pointed out. “If I'm ever in a bad situation, I'll show him more of my leg. It's a foolproof plan.”

Nino sounded winded. “You're... planning to seduce him?”

She grinned. “Why else would I be here?”

“You're mad,” he told her, wide-eyed.

“I think your friend's the mad one,” she replied. “He's the one that started this.”

“He wouldn't have if he knew who you are—”

Marinette interrupted with a smile, “And you're not going to tell him.”

“No.” Nino frowned, looking away. “I'm not.”

“I'm glad we're on the same page,” she said, putting one thigh on top of the other and leaning back against the sofa. “Where's Adrien? He's normally here by now.”

“He—he asked Alya to try and teach him to cook something better today,” Nino informed her. And when he saw her confused look, he elaborated, “My girlfriend.”

She snapped her fingers. “The _lover_.”

“I was told to be here to try the results,” he muttered. “But if you're... interested in him, I should leave.”

“No chaperone?” she teased. “How kind.”

Nino got up, fetching his hat from the coat stand. “He has a key, so I'll lock the front door for your safety.”

She laughed. “That's sweet.”

“I can't have you being killed here.” Nino pretended to shudder. “Claude would have my head.”

“He would if he knew you spoke to me at all,” she cooed. “Better run along.”

It was close to an hour before Adrien returned. Marinette amused herself with a book, boiling the kettle for a cup of tea while she waited. She kicked her shoes off after a quarter of an hour, skirt becoming crinkled from how she was sitting at half an hour, and by the time the sound of the front door came, she'd almost nodded off.

Marinette blinked, trying to wake up faster.

Adrien nudged the door open with his shoulder, calling out, “Nino? Sorry, it took ages to get back.”

“Nino left.”

He almost dropped what he was holding. “Marinette?”

“Hey.” She raised a hand to wave at him. “I came over with dessert. Nino decided to give us some time alone.”

He sounded breathless as he asked, “You waited for me?”

It was easy to tell that he liked her.

Marinette's chest felt warm at that thought. “Is that a problem? I can leave—”

“No, no,” he quickly said, shutting the door by kicking it before he placed what he was carrying on the countertop. “I thought about asking if you wanted to come, but it's so late already and I didn't want to bother you so late.”

With a laugh, she got up and stretched her arms over her head. “Food and money are my two main motivations.”

He smiled, taking off his coat. “What about the third?”

“Love.”

He inhaled sharply.

And when he spoke, his voice was a bit high-pitched. “Is that so?”

Nosy, Marinette closed the distance between them to peer at the bowls he'd brought over. “What's this?”

He lifted up the covers, showing her the food within.

It tasted better than it looked after heating it up.

The pie was nice after it was warm, too.

Adrien asked, “You really like sweet things, don't you?”

She smiled. “You've noticed already?”

“It's a bit hard not to when used up all of Nino's sugar cubes,” he quipped, pushing up the sleeves of his shirt.

“He only had three!”

He laughed. “That's more than he's used, like, all year.”

“It's not my fault that Nino's not a man of culture,” she muttered.

“He's trying his best,” Adrien replied, smile showing the indents on his cheeks. “Sometimes that means locking you in his home and running away.”

“I told him it was fine,” she assured him. “Besides, if I was stuck, I'd climb out the window and jump down to the next balcony.”

He hummed. “And break your legs? That would be a horrifying thing to return to.”

“You're the one that was back late,” she pointed out. “My mangled legs would be all your fault.”

“Mine?” Adrien pointed at his face. “I'm completely innocent. You're the one that's thinking about jumping out the window.”

Marinette scoffed. “Like it's anything new.”

He blinked.

“...Surely, you've jumped out of one before?” she questioned, curious.

“This is the third floor,” he said.

“With a balcony.”

He stared. “That balcony can barely fit a chair.”

“All that matters is whether the railing is sturdy,” she replied. “And it is.”

Adrien's expression was incredulous. “Why do you know that?”

“It's good to inspect a place before you buy it,” she replied with a smile. “What if I leaned against it and fell because it was too weak? I'm not going to die from something as pathetic as that.”

A bit amused, he asked, “How would you like to die?”

“I'd like to go out with a bang,” Marinette told him, utterly serious. “In whichever way you want to interpret that.”

His ears turned red.

She laughed loudly.

“What happened to flirting with me?” she asked, a bit breathless. “Am I no longer attractive because you've seen me eating?”

“I—no!” he blurted, quickly shaking his head. “You're really attractive. Like, crazily so. I can't tell you how pretty you are.”

Amused, she put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Oh, so you just can't put it into words?”

“I'm not good at this,” Adrien replied, shifting in his seat, clearly flustered. “At... this whole thing.”

“This whole thing?” she questioned. “I don't know what you're referring to.”

“This.” He gestured between them before putting that hand on the back of his neck. “I don't want to make a fool of myself in front of you.”

“I wouldn't mind if you did,” Marinette said, lips curling into a smile. “After all, I don't expect much from a man that can't jump out of windows.”

He spluttered, “It's not that I _can't_ —”

With a laugh, she asked, “If I said that it would impress me, would you?”

“No,” he answered without having to think about it. “I don't think there's anything sexy about broken legs.”

She beamed. “You want me to find you sexy?”

Adrien made a choked noise.

“The rolled up sleeves you've got are working so far,” Marinette told him, an appreciative glance down to his arms. “And you've got a pretty face.”

She could hear him swallow. “I should be saying that to you.”

With a laugh, she teased, “You like my sleeves?”

Adrien groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I told you I'm bad at this.”

“You're cute,” she complimented, reaching out and taking one of his hands into her own, prying them away from his face. And as he hesitantly met her gaze, she smiled. “You think the same about me, right?”

He whispered, “Yes.”

She bluntly asked, “Can I kiss you?”

Adrien gaped.

She smiled wider, waiting for an answer.

He cleared his throat, running the free hand through his hair and pushing any loose hairs back. “I've never met someone as forward as you.”

“Seize the day and all that,” she responded, not embarrassed in the slightest. “Living in the moment is what life's about, isn't it?”

“I-I guess,” he stuttered out.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, Marinette spoke up to ask, “So?”

He blinked.

She tapped her lips.

He wetted his.

It was him that leaned forward first.

With the hand that was holding hers, he linked their fingers as their noses brushed. Marinette closed her eyes, able to feel his breath against her skin before his lips gently touched her own. It was a shy peck at first; chaste and seeing whether the action had been fine in the first place, regardless of her being the one to request it.

Marinette leaned into him, kissing him tentatively. It wasn't fast and filled with passion, nor was it an immature first kiss of children.

She could feel his smile.

And when they parted, and she was able to see his reddened lips and the soft way he was looking at her, her own smile grew.

“Thank you for the date,” she said.

Adrien looked surprised. “Date?”

She pressed another chaste kiss to his lips. “Well, you made dinner for me, didn't you?”

He swallowed. ” I did.”

Marinette announced, “I'll make it next time.”

His eyes grew wide.

-x-

Marinette had had a goofy smile on her face until Chloé told her to come to work in the evening.

It never meant in the book-store.

She sighed, fixing her make-up in the mirror before putting on a more flashy outfit. If she turned up in her usual attire, Chloé would've docked her pay and said that she deserved it.

So, she dressed up.

Marinette had saw Adrien walk past in the afternoon. Instead of doing the normal thing and calling out his name to get his attention, she ran and threw herself at him, laughing loudly as he fumbled before hugging her back.

He kissed her first.

Luka's expression was entirely unimpressed when she came back with smudged lipstick.

She beamed.

The terror of being caught had dwindled and been squashed by Adrien's smile when he looked at her. They'd been even closer after their first date, with him either coming over or her visiting Nino's for dinner for a whole week, and she wasn't shy or trying to keep her hands to herself.

He loosened up and got better at flirting.

“I think too much when I'm nervous,” was his excuse that was accompanied by a kiss to her neck.

She shifted in his lap. “And you're calm now?”

And as he spoke, she could feel his breath against her skin. “I've accepted this is a fever dream and I'm not going to question it any more.”

Although it was fast, she had no complaints.

He was only in town for one more week.

The agreement had always been that Marinette and Luka worked throughout the day and weren't involved with the other side of business. They'd awkwardly cut ties with Chloé's family and didn't want to be sucked back into it, but that didn't mean they were going to abandon Chloé completely.

So, it was hard to tell Chloé no when she demanded their presence.

Luka had a bowtie on.

Marinette clapped. “You look almost like an adult.”

He pulled a face at that. “You're not expecting me to compliment you, are you?”

“I know I'm pretty,” she responded, putting a hand on her hip and striking a pose. “Besides, I'm the only one getting laid between the two of us.”

Luka pretended to gag.

When they walked to the store, Marinette held his hand and kept swinging it between them, walking with a skip in her step.

“You're ridiculous,” he accused, fondness clear in his voice.

She nudged her shoulder against his. “Isn't everything about our lives ridiculous?”

“Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. “I had plans tonight. They definitely didn't include Chloé in a wig.”

She snorted. “What were you planning?”

“I have a new book—”

“You're so cute,” Marinette interrupted, resuming her swinging as they walked through an alley. “Don't let me get too drunk, okay? I need to keep up my reputation of being an innocent citizen.”

He pursed his lips. “You can have one drink.”

“Two should be _fine_.”

She had three.

Neither of them were responsible, that was what they decided as they were given another drink from the bartender. It helped that Chloé's reputation made it so they were given them for free.

They might've only been involved in the legitimate side of the store—the book-selling kind—but they were still recognised down in the basement.

It was filled with only pre-approved people that hadn't pissed Chloé off. So, naturally, Marinette and Luka were known when they made an appearance, leading to awkward situations where people tried to suck up to them.

Marinette stuck close to Luka's side, going as far as to link their arms and lean on him with a sigh. “Where the fuck is Claude?”

“She—he's in the back,” Luka answered, trying to smooth out her hair before running this thumb along her lip to fix her make-up. “You look a mess.”

Childishly, she stuck her tongue out.

He flicked her nose.

She finished his drink in retaliation.

When they were offered another, she made the wise decision to steer them away from the bar. A few tried to talk to them, but Marinette ignored them, instead zoning in on a spare table that was in the corner, shoved in the back and furthest away from the entertainment that was on stage.

It had been mesmerising at first.

After a year, it had grown boring. The secret nightlife wasn't something that she found enjoyment in for long.

It was because of that that Chloé wanted her and Luka there after she was finished with her meeting. Chloé like to use them both as an excuse to not talk to anyone else for a short amount of time.

Luka held out the chair for her to sit in.

“So kind,” she teased, patting his cheek.

Luka turned his head and licked her hand.

She laughed loudly.

He moved his own chair to sit closer to her, so they could lean in and whisper over the live music playing. They gossiped, noticing some of the characters that came into their store and attempted to enter the bar before opening hours because they were itching for a drink.

It was times like those that Marinette was glad that she wasn't scared easily.

That thought changed entirely when she saw someone sitting amongst the other patrons.

“What the fuck?” she whispered, doing a double-take before hitting Luka with more force than necessary to get his attention. “Do you fucking see this?”

He'd zoned out, jumping in his seat from being hit. “What?”

“Adrien is _here_ ,” she replied, frantically pointing in his direction.

Luka blinked.

Marinette was torn between wanting to cry or running away.

“I thought you said he's oblivious?” he asked quietly, not taking his eyes off of him. “Because that's not what I'm seeing right now.”

“He's on break!” she retorted, wiping her nervous hands on her dress. “This—he shouldn't be here. How the fuck did he get in?”

“With the password,” Luka helpfully replied.

She wanted to bang her head on the table.

“I regret not getting another drink,” she complained. Then, she caught sight of who was sitting beside Adrien. “...My neighbour's here.”

“The... new one?” Luka questioned. “I can't remember his name.”

“Nino,” she clarified, wide-eyed. “He _knows_ that Adrien shouldn't be here. He—he's even more paranoid than me!”

Luka hummed. “Think he got bribed?”

“This is a terrible dream,” she muttered, resting her head against his shoulder and closing her eyes. “I want to wake up, please.”

“I'm in your dream?” Luka teased. “That's rare for you. I'm usually only in your nightmares harassing you.”

She mumbled, “You're harassing me right now.”

He patted her head. “There, there.”

“I'm doomed,” she lamented, her voice muffled by his shirt that she was surely getting lipstick on. “I was thinking with my dick.”

“You don't have one,” Luka pointed out.

“That's what makes it even worse,” she complained, wrapping her arms around him for a clumsy hug that he readily returned, steadying her so she wouldn't fall. “He's just—he's so _handsome_ , Luka. My innocent heart can't take it.”

“I don't think anyone else describes your heart as that.”

“Adrien does,” Marinette said, somewhat smugly. “He says my heart's more innocent than my mouth.”

Luka snorted. “...That was too much information.”

“Do you know how hard it is to find someone that _doesn't_ tell me to act more ladylike?” she exclaimed, squeezing tightly until he wheezed. “I thought I could ignore his job a little more because he's good in bed.”

“Still too much,” Luka said.

“Listen to my problems,” she muttered. “You're supposed to love me.”

“I never signed up to be your therapist,” he retorted, shoving her away until she was forced to sit up, and then he put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You could always—I don't know, go over there and _ask_?”

She exclaimed in horror, “And give away my position?”

“Marinette,” Luka said slowly. “He walked through our store to get here.”

She grimaced. “Shit.”

He nodded in agreement.

And with that, Marinette slapped her cheeks and demanded, “How do I look?”

“A bit drunk,” Luka replied, honest.

“Shit,” she repeated, sagging back in her seat. “Should I sober up first?”

“You might want to go before Claude comes out,” he pointed out. “I could cover for you if you want to get out of here entirely.”

She made a noise of disapproval. “And have my bonus reduced?”

Luka raised his eyebrows.

“Okay,” she said, abruptly standing up and attempting to smooth down her clothing. “I'm going.”

Luka gave her a thumbs up.

It was Nino that noticed her first.

His expression was as horrified as she felt. Nino shook his head, noticing her while taking a sip from his glass, wide-eyed and trying to communicate for her not to take another step forward.

Adrien's attention was on the stage, his back to her.

She stepped closer.

Nino looked terrified.

Adrien turned to him, curious.

Then, when he noticed that Nino's attention was elsewhere, Adrien looked over his shoulder and saw her.

His expression was just as terrified as Nino's.

Marinette raised a hand and waved.

“M-Marinette,” Adrien stuttered out, jumping to his feet and meeting her halfway. And when he spoke, his voice was more high-pitched than usual from panic. “What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to ask you that?” she replied, tilting her head quizzically. “Someone like you—”

He covered her mouth with his hand, eyes wide and pleading.

That wasn't the answer that she was expecting.

“I'm not—please don't say it,” Adrien hastily said, almost begging. “Not here.”

She blinked.

“I didn't think I'd see you here so soon,” he admitted, hesitantly taking his hand away from her mouth. Similar to how Luka had done earlier, he used his thumb to try and correct her lipstick. “Sorry for panicking. I'm not good at reacting appropriately.”

“Apparently so,” she agreed, somewhat amused. “I thought you didn't have plans for tonight.”

He swallowed. “About that...”

“It wasn't me,” Nino butted in, standing up and running a hand through his hair. “I swear, it's not my fault.”

Marinette laughed.

“I'm not talking to you,” Nino continued on, taking a step back and whipping his head side-to-side to look around. “I'm—I'll be at the bar.”

And with that, Nino scampered away, absolutely terrified at the thought of being caught talking to her.

She shook with laughter when Adrien stared at his friend's retreating form in confusion.

“What just happened?” he questioned, bewildered.

It was loud so close to the stage.

While her heart was still pounding in her chest from a mixture of nerves and adrenaline, she linked her arm through his and tugged him along to the other side of the room. She would've used her position to use the back room if it wasn't for the fact it was already in use.

If anything, she wanted to avoid that situation the most.

Luka was looking at her, tiredness clear in his expression.

She gave him a thumbs up back.

He yawned.

It was very supportive.

“So,” she drawled out, scuffing one of her heels against the floor. “Fancy seeing you here. It's a complete surprise, yeah. Definitely my first time.”

Adrien touched the nape of his neck. “This is your basement.”

“If we're getting technical, I don't actually own this property,” she pointed out with a sheepish smile. “Does that mean you're not going to—”

“To?” he asked.

“You're not letting me say it,” she said, gesturing to the bar. “Is this evening ending with this place going down, or you going down on me?”

He looked scandalised. “ _Marinette_ —”

“I've had a few drinks,” she offered as her explanation, face feeling warm from a mixture of his presence and the alcohol. “Give it to me straight. Am I fucked or are we fucking? I did say I want to go out with a bang before.”

Flustered, he questioned, “How many times are you going to say this?”

She gave into her desire to stomp her foot. “Until I get an answer.”

He cried out in pain.

“Oh, my bad.” Marinette laughed. “I didn't mean to do that.”

“Are you sure?” Adrien questioned, wincing.

“It's karma for you stepping foot in this place,” she told him, patting his shoulder.

“You stepping on _my foot_?”

She nodded. “That's how it works.”

“You're—” Adrien cut himself off, staring at her with an expression she couldn't recognise. “Are you drunk?”

“No,” she denied.

“You're talking strangely,” he replied, taking both of her hands into her own. “This—do you do this often?”

She swallowed. “Is this an interrogation?”

“It's not,” he assured her, linking their fingers together. “I'm worried about you.”

“I'm more worried about you,” she retorted, leaning to the side to see whether the back room door had opened yet. And when it hadn't she took one her hands back to wave frantically at Luka before pointing to the exit. “Let's go.”

Although he didn't resist when she started tugging him away, Adrien still asked, “What?”

“It's time to leave,” she replied, stumbling up the stairs.

“You haven't even got your jacket,” he pointed out. “You'll catch a cold. I can run back and get it for you, if you want.”

“Too dangerous,” she rejected, shaking her head and making her hair move. “We need to leave now.”

“Marinette,” he said slowly, their intertwined hands hanging down between them as they stepped out onto the street. “I was in there. I've already seen it.”

She sniffed. “No.”

“Hey—”

She walked faster down the road, pulling him along. “If my brother saw you, you'd be dead.”

“I did wave to Luka.”

“Not that brother,” she muttered.

“The sometimes brother?” Adrien questioned. “I thought—I don't know what I thought. You never mention him.”

She answered that with, “I'm never mentioning him again.”

“We should talk about this,” he insisted as they came to their apartment building. “Not your brother, I mean. Everything that just happened.”

“No,” she denied, stubbornly not looking behind to see his face. “Indulge me one last time.”

“Marinette—”

“We'll deal with it in the morning,” she proposed, searching for her keys before she realised they were left with her coat beside Luka. “Fuck.”

Adrien took out his own for Nino's place, spinning them around his finger. “You can stay over.”

She swallowed.

“It's not like it's anything new,” he said, unlocking the door and opening it for her to walk in first. “And like you said, we'll deal with it in the morning.”

Somehow, she didn't think that would mean when they were both naked and under the duvet.

Adrien kept poking her cheek.

“Stop,” she complained, rolling over and pressing her face into the pillow. “I'm trying to sleep.”

“Nino's already left for work,” he informed her. “And you're going to late.”

“Who cares,” she muttered, squeezing her eyes shut. “It's not like it'll stay open for much longer.”

“What are you on about?” Adrien questioned, a strange lilt to his voice. “Your business is going fine.”

And when she lifted her head up to look at him incredulously, she was sure she had pillow marks all over her face. “What?”

He brushed the stray hairs away from her face, leaning in to press a chaste kiss to her lips. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

She spluttered, “That's my line.”

“You should get ready for work,” he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. “Being punctual is a good thing.”

Marinette blinked, trying to wake herself up.

Adrien was looking at her with such a soft expression.

All she could manage to say was, “What?”

When he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “It would be bad if you got to work after Luka. You did leave him last night.”

“Last night,” she repeated lamely.

His voice got the strange lilt back in it. “When we... met each other on the street.”

“Oh,” she whispered, struck with the realisation that that was what he sounded like when he tried to lie. It sounded even worse than her. “Right. Yes, on the street. Where we met.”

He cleared his throat. “Yes.”

She stared, unsure whether it was to see if he'd laugh and correct his lie, or if he'd suddenly flip a switch and stop being the caring person she'd spent the past few weeks with.

And when none of those happened, Marinette kissed him again.

She was late for work.

-x-

Luka thought she was mad.

“Madly in love,” she corrected.

He stared, dumbfounded. “You barely know him.”

“Okay,” she said, pretending to think. “Madly in lust? It doesn't have the same ring to it.”

Adrien was avoiding the subject as much as she was.

Thankfully, Chloé hadn't seen him. Marinette had managed to leave before she'd come out, though it did mean that she lost some money from her bonus that month.

Then again, she was having more fun in her free time. It seemed like a worthy trade.

It was a fling, a fun way to spend her time—it helped that Adrien was attractive in his appearance and personality. The only downside was his profession.

She figured when the week was out, it wouldn't be her concern any more if he was turning a blind eye to bumping into her the other night.

Then, it felt like he'd punched her in the gut.

They were on her sofa, cuddled up with their crumpled clothes a clear indication of what they'd been doing minutes ago.

“You're cute,” he murmured, brushing her damp hair away from her forehead.

Marinette beamed. “Am I?”

“Adorably so,” Adrien reassured her, dimples showing on his cheeks. “I'm really happy you gave me another chance.”

“Your first impression wasn't _that_ bad,” she replied with a laugh. “It was bad timing, that's all.”

“I promise I won't make you regret it,” he whispered, voice as soft as his gaze. “I'll try and make you happy for as long as you want me.”

She blinked. “Eh?”

“I'm so happy you're my girlfriend,” Adrien continued on, pulling her into a hug so her face was tucked under his chin, unable to see his expression. “I really, really like you.”

It wasn't that she minded what he was saying; rather, it didn't match up to what she had in mind.

“Aren't you leaving?” she questioned.

Adrien laughed. “What?”

“Your break... you said it was over next week,” she pointed out, choosing her words carefully. “After that, you won't be with Nino any more.”

“It'll be annoying not living near you any more,” he agreed, sighing audibly. “But I'll come see you when I'm free. I mean, it's only the next town over. It won't take me _that_ long.”

That—

That wasn't something she'd known before, was it?

Marinette tried to think whether she'd heard it in passing or not, or if she'd pushed it out of her mind in the beginning before she'd decided to live dangerously and have a fling with him.

Except—

She sat upright, almost hitting his face. “You'll come see me?”

“Of course,” Adrien responded without hesitation, smiling widely as he loosely wrapped his arms around her waist. “I'd die if I only got letters from you. I need to see your pretty face to feel happy.”

That didn't sound like he had no intention of stopping their fling.

The best way she thought to respond to that was, “I am pretty.”

“Very,” he fondly replied. “My pretty girlfriend.”

And before she could get distracted with her spiralling panic, Adrien kissed her again.

Nino came home and shrieked at the sight of her brassiere on the floor.

Chloé wasn't a safe option to talk to.

Therefore, Luka was the only one to hear her out.

He was rearranging the shelves while she was sat down, complaining, “I thought it was a summer romance.”

“It's spring.”

“How am I supposed to get out of this?” she questioned, pressing her cheek against the cool wood of the desk. “This is a disaster.”

His helpful response was, “You've said that every time so far.”

“It's even worse now!” Marinette exclaimed, worked up. “He's committed to me, Luka! My pretty face can't get me out of this now.”

“Did you even find out why he was there?” he asked.

“He saw Nino in the street and followed him,” she grumbled. “It's entirely Nino's fault. I should have him killed for stupidity.”

“I mean, that could be arranged,” Luka mused.

She muttered, “Like that would help me at this point.”

“I don't know what to tell you.”

“Distract me from my sorrows by giving me money,” she demanded, holding her hand out and wiggling her fingers. “It's my only comfort nowadays.”

Luka clicked his tongue. “I thought that was your lover's body.”

She hit the desk with her fist instead. “It should've been!”

“Does he know about Nino?” he questioned.

“No,” she muttered. “He thinks Nino's into having a few drinks—illegal and lonely drinks since his girlfriend wasn't with him at the time.”

He snorted. “And you?”

“I don't know!” She sat upright, shaking her head and making a mess of her hair. “We're avoiding talking about it. Nino said that Adrien didn't mention me being there when they spoke about it.”

“...Shouldn't this be a good thing?”

“I'm so pretty I've convinced a detective not to arrest me,” she muttered, running her hand over her face. “This is my curse.”

“Your curse is being arrogant.”

“There's a difference between confidence and arrogance,” she replied.

Luka muttered. “That you don't know.”

She raised her middle finger at him.

-x-

Adrien wasn't kidding about coming to visit her after he went back home.

On his last day at Nino's, they were cooped up in her apartment until the last moment where he had to take a taxi back to his home. He'd kissed her until she was breathless, the sight of his smile making her chest feel warm with affection that hadn't been there originally.

Then, when he was gone, the first thing she did was knock loudly on Nino's door.

“I'm not home,” he called out.

“Open it before I get Claude to come here,” she demanded.

Nino looked physically in pain when he let her in. “Why are you here?”

“Somehow, I'm Adrien's girlfriend now,” she started, putting her hands on her hips. “And you are absolutely _not_ going to mention my family to him.”

“Somehow?” he spluttered. “You—you're the one that came after him.”

Marinette lamely retorted, “For a good time.”

“Well, he thinks it's a long time,” Nino replied, the fire in his tone disappearing as quickly as it had came. “He's—you're not going to get him caught up in all of this, are you? He's a good guy.”

“I know he's good!” she exclaimed, a bit offended. “You think I wouldn't realise that after spending so much time with him?”

Nino scuffed his shoe on the floor. “You might've been distracted.”

“He's good at _everything_ ,” she lamented, feeling her brand of dramatic flair was appropriate for that moment. “As long as you keep him from going back there, we're fine.”

“I said I'd give it up,” Nino replied, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I'll be more careful next time. Please, don't tell Claude that I let that happen.”

“You're lucky he was busy,” Marinette said back. “He was actually there that night.”

Nino swallowed.

“You owe me,” she started, touching her hair and realising that it was horribly out of place from Adrien running his fingers through it. “So, unless you want to die, you're going to tell him I'm a pure and respectable person.”

Nino stared at her strangely. “You're blackmailing me to compliment you?”

“I'm sparing your life to compliment me,” she corrected. “If Adrien asks if you've seen me do anything shady, you're going to say no.”

“...He knows you're a criminal.”

“I am innocent,” she insisted, speaking louder. “And you're going to sing about my good deeds when you meet up with him.”

Nino still said, “This really feels like blackmail.”

She tapped below her eyes before pointing her fingers at him, eyes narrowed.

Nino sounded amused as he remarked, “Somehow, you're not very threatening.”

“My power lies in the people I know,” she replied. “Well, that and my face. It's my secret weapon.”

“It's not a secret if that's what everyone sees first,” he pointed out.

She took a step back, telling him, “I'll be watching you.”

Nino waved.

Maybe she should've shown him the knife under her skirt for real.

Adrien visited at the weekend.

Marinette hadn't known when to expect him. It certainly wasn't when she had hair in curlers from the night before, her nightgown on as she peered through the crack to see who was there.

All she could see was flowers.

He'd bought her a large bouquet, bigger than any other she'd ever received.

There wasn't much talking at first because they stumbled into bed instead.

After, Adrien pressed kisses into her hair as he helped her take her curlers out, happily taking the chance for her to sit in his lap as he ran the comb through her hair clumsily. She didn't bat his hands away or call him incompetent when it was nice being so close to him.

When she asked why he was up so early, he replied, “I wanted to be here before you woke up.”

It made her feel warm inside.

Adrien answered her questions with enthusiasm; describing his flat, the boring case he'd been given as soon as he'd returned, and lamenting that his partner was someone that he couldn't stand.

Marinette liked to think she could absorb the information like a sponge—it would be helpful, after all.

He stayed the night.

The following morning, she realised that she'd run out of milk. Instead of getting dressed and venturing out to the store, Marinette pulled on a dressing gown and knocked on Nino's door.

He looked terrified when she demanded he give it over to her.

She smiled sweetly and thanked him.

“Nino hates sharing his stuff,” Adrien remarked, amused by her triumphant expression when she came back. “He must like you.”

She snickered. “Yes, we get along well.”

“It's funny that you barely knew each other before,” he said, happily accepting the mug she'd slid down to him.

“I knew of him,” she admitted. “Like his name, I mean. And that he lived in this building somewhere. We never ran into each other before.”

It was as he was looking down at the contents of the mug that he murmured, “I knew of you, too.”

Marinette paused. “What?”

“I didn't see any pictures to go with it,” he hastily explained, not lifting his gaze up to meet hers. “I didn't—I really did think you were pretty. I didn't approach you for any other reason.”

There shouldn't have been a reason for him to know of her. As a front, the book-store wasn't _that_ popular; it would've closed down long ago if the funds had only been from that.

Her stomach churned.

It felt unnatural to ask, “Because of Claude?”

Adrien wetted his lips. “Yes.”

Her heart was beating fast.

Then, against her better instincts, she blurted, “I'd seen a picture of you.”

He lifted his head up, wide-eyed. “What?”

“A drawing,” she corrected, running a hand through her hair. “It was on a list. I remembered you.”

“Oh,” was all he could say to that.

It was a good sign that he was looking at her, wasn't it?

Marinette tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

“I told them I haven't had any luck yet.”

It took her a while to realise what he meant.

She was the one to look surprised.

“I didn't—” Adrien cut himself with a frustrated noise, holding the mug with both hands. “I didn't see you there. I didn't see anything.”

There was that lilt in his voice again, the tell-tale sign that he was lying.

She had to wonder how his higher-ups hadn't noticed it.

It was a gamble to ask, “You know Nino's involved, don't you?”

Adrien let out an audible breath. “I suspected that, yes.”

“It's a new development,” Marinette informed him, still feeling out of place and strange to talk about such things with him. “In a few months, he'll have the option to resign and leave. Claude doesn't blackmail anyone to stay.”

Adrien shifted in his seat. “You're not supposed to tell me this.”

“Let's say I didn't see you there either,” she replied. “Luka's not going to rat you out.”

“How are you managing that?” he asked.

“Money,” she responded bluntly.

He let out a laugh. “Really?”

“You'd be surprised what orphans do in exchange for money,” she answered, raising her eyebrows. “We have barely any standards.”

“You have a last name.”

She retorted, “That I've never told you.”

“Right,” he whispered. “You haven't.”

“I'm Marinette,” she stated, holding out a hand for him to shake. “Your girlfriend, a simple book-store owner. I'm definitely _not_ the younger sister of a mafia boss. That's absurd.”

“Of course not,” he agreed, gently taking her hand in his and pressing a kiss to her knuckles instead. “You're a pure and respectable person.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Did Nino tell you that?”

His smile showed his teeth. “Maybe.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com) ❤(゜▽゜;)


End file.
